


Romantic Alignment

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Lesbian Stereotypes Alignment Chart
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, Yuletide Treat, lesbian friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Chaotic Butch has a thing for Lawfully Femme, and Neutral Butch is ready to help things along.





	Romantic Alignment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vibishan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibishan/gifts).



> Written for fun, as a Yuletide treat. Based on this alignment chart, which (disclaimer!) is not mine. http://bedupolker.tumblr.com/post/145815892329/look-ma-i-made-a-tag-yourselfalignment-chart
> 
> I named the characters, because that made them easier to write about. In this story, Candace = Chaotic Butch, Nat = Neutral Butch, and Lydia = Lawfully Femme. Enjoy!

Candace was a wreck, but what else was new? In Nat's experience with Candace, which was immense considering the two of them had known each other since middle school grade, Candace was very rarely not the exact definition of lovable disaster. She was too lanky for her own good, with a voice that she tried to keep deep, but which rose about ten octaves when she was caught off guard, and chips of black nail polish that did little to hide the dirt beneath her fingernails. She’d been halfway through college before she’d realized that wearing the same boxers for three days straight was gross. She took selfies in front of motorcycles that weren't hers, had accidentally poked her last girlfriend in the eye with her spiked dog collar, and unironically loved hot topic. With most people she came off as emotionally repressed, but Nat wasn't most people. Around Nat, Candace’s emotions seemed to float around outside her head in a chaotic swarm of exclamation marks at all times, most especially when she was trying to play it cool. This state of being was amplified whenever she found a pretty girl, and oh lordy had she ever found one this time. She was infatuated, in a way that showed in the flush of her cheeks, and the way she kept messing with her greasy, blue and red tipped hair as she talked. 

"It's like this," she tried to explain, for probably the eight hundredth time since bursting into Nat's house five minutes ago, with a grand announcement of _my feeble heart is going to be the death of me_. "She's just so... so..."

"Charming?"

Candace sputtered out a sound that wasn't quite a word, but was definitely affirmative. 

"Beautiful?" 

Another sound. 

"Graceful?"

"She's... she's..." Candace waved her hands around wildly, almost knocking over her rum and coke in the process. "It's Lydia! She's Lydia, you know, from room 502, Lydia? Lydia who we saw leaving the house last Friday in a fucking silk evening gown Lydia? You know, _Lydia_ with the brown eyes, and the long long hair, and oh god the red lipstick and her shoes, I would willingly let her stab me with those heels."

Nat laughed so hard that she snorted, and her coffee almost came out her nose, in a very non-Lydia-like way. "Oh god. Lydia. I mean, who hasn't had a crush on Lydia at some point?"

"You... you've....?"

"Relax babe,” Nat dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “I wouldn't mind taking her on a camping trip with me, but she might have some objections. Or maybe not. Who knows. Not me, because I have no plans of asking her. And you?"

"This is gonna sound crazy." 

"Not unusual, coming from you. So shoot."

"What if I bought her a coffee? Do girls like coffee?"

"Hmm, I don't know." Nat raised her own thermos. The coffee inside was hot, and black, and so strong that it was more syrupy than watery, and that was just how Nat liked it. It gave her energy to face the world (and her morning walk) at five AM each morning, when the woods behind her house were at their crispest and most quiet, and she continued to guzzle the stuff throughout the day, whenever she took a break to sit down.

"Not, like... that coffee. Shit, Nat, I don’t want to kill the girl."

"She’s no fragile flower. Trust me. Willing to bet she drinks the blood of her enemies."

"Right. Right. I bet she eats steel nails for breakfast."

"Totally. Gold and pearl encrusted steel nails."

"But the coffee..."

"Get her something expensive and sweet. None of those weird flavors, and not too trendy, so that rules out pumpkin spice. Vanilla?"

"Vanilla!" Candace exclaimed, as if in giving her this suggestion, Nat had hung the stars up in the sky. “Vanilla is like… it's _elegant_ or some shit, right? Right?” 

"Right. She lives across the hall from you, so this'll be easy. Go somewhere local and nice. Coffee Labs? buy her a cup, knock on her door, and give it to her."

"What if she doesn't like it?" 

Nat shrugged. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, huh?" 

"What if she looks me square in the face and just _knows_ , like instantaneously, that I want her to throw me down on the ground, rip my clothes out, and maybe... like maybe..." 

"What, flog you?"

"Yeahhh," Candace said, and oh god, she was practically drooling. 

"Well, I mean, wouldn't it be a good thing if she knew? And like, was into, you know..." 

Candace hid her face in her hands, which won her some awkward patting from Nat. 

"Just give it a try. Worst case scenario, she’s not interested, and we get to maintain the status quo of you playing tough until one day a pretty girl walks by, and you're over here doing your whole smitten-kitten routine." Nat patted poor Candace on the shoulder again, standing up. “Best case scenario, you’re soaring out of the single-pringle club with a woman who looks like a Greek goddess.” 

"Are you abandoning me?" Candace half whined.

"Yep. To the whiles of lady nature. Gotta climb a mountain, wrestle bears, and chop some firewood. You know how it is. Let me know how things with Lydia go, and don’t chicken out!"

Candace only groaned, but Nat knew her. Like, sure, she was an emotionally constipated wreck most of the time, but she knew how to go after what she wanted, and how to take rejection if her awkward advances went unreciprocated. She'd be fine. 

————————————

It took Candace two days to enact her coffee plan. For somebody who liked to chew on tree bark, Nat was usually mad good with relationship advice. Candace had scored about half of her admittedly small amount of past girlfriends through her. 

Coffee day was handled with precision. Candace knew what time Lydia left the house for work every morning (not in a creepy stalker way), and so she waited outside in the hallway for Lydia to emerge (also not in a creepy stalker way), cupping her hands around the warm coffee cup, and trying her damnedest not to pace like some kind of lunatic. Lydia opened the door at exactly 8:15, because she was all about precision, and that was one of the things that Candace adored about her (along with her eyeliner game, and the heels that she could totally murder people with, and the way her voice went from imposing to sweet when she talked to the stray cat that lived in their building, and _Jesus Christ_ she was so much of everything wonderful all at once). 

The door opened. Lydia emerged, looking like someone on a red carpet show, even as she checked her phone and adjusted her bag. Candace wanted to run, but her feet were glued to the spot. She wanted to hide like the miserable coward that she was. She wanted to fall at Lydia’s feet and profess her undying love. She did none of these things. 

“This!” She squeaked, in a too-high, too-loud voice.

Fuck. 

“This!” She tried again, going for low and smooth, like Danny Zucko in Grease low and smooth, but ending up sounding like a croaky frog. 

Ok. No good. 

“This!” She tried one last time, finally hitting a decent approximation of a human voice. “This! Is! Coffee!”

Candace thrust her spiky, leather clad, coffee bearing arm out towards Lydia, who just _stared_ at it. If she was surprised by the offering, she didn't show it. She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows in what could only be distain. 

And then! Then something miraculous happened! The clouds parted, the angels started to sing, and Lydia took the coffee cup. She took a sip. 

“Vanilla,” she observed. 

Cue awkward finger guns. 

“Walk me to my car,” she ordered. 

“Really?” Candace could hardly believe her luck. 

“I'm late for work,” Lydia said on the way out. “I can't promise anything, but I may be able to fit you into my schedule to talk about this later.” 

“Seriously?” Candace tried not to gush. “That would make me… I mean I would be… _That_ would be… I mean, that’d be cool.” 

Lydia’s smile was stunning rather than nice. There might have been some mockery behind it. There was certainly amusement. 

“Don't come looking for me. I'll come looking for you,” she said. Before the elevator doors opened, and Lydia walked out, she patted Candace on the cheek. Candace never wanted to wash that cheek again, and given her usual hygiene routine, it was totally possible that she wouldn't, not for a few days at least. 

(When all was said and done, she didn't expect Lydia to really come and find her again. Four days later, Lydia did, thus beginning the whole getting-to-know you process by letting Candace know that she was nothing if not unpredictable.)


End file.
